I Want to Make It Up to You
by ucsbdad
Summary: AU from the end of When the Bough Breaks.


I Want to Make It Up to You

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: Once again, I own none of this. Rating: K Time: AU in the hotel lobby after When the Bough Breaks and after.

**Author's note: Really? Black Pawn could gather the sales records for Heat Wave, get a new contract for Castle past their lawyers and contact the mayor to keep Castle a the 12****th**** all in one day? No way. Of course the following story isn't all that likely either.**

Castle took a step away from Beckett, the first step out of her life. Then he stopped and turned around. "Beckett, this just isn't right. I've written a novel that's selling well from all reports, and all you got out of this is a pain in the ass that I'm sure you're glad to see the last of, but it just isn't right. You deserve something out of this." Castle took a deep breath, so far Beckett hadn't said a word.

"I'd like to take you out to dinner. Yes, I know, you turned me down before, but just listen to me. You will be in complete control. You pick the restaurant, you can drive your Crown Vic so you won't have to be trapped in a car with me, you can handcuff me to my chair if you like, or hold a Taser on me throughout dinner. And anything else you can think of. Is there maybe a hulking goon that owes you? Have him stake the place out and if I do anything out of line, he can beat me up. Anything you want. I know how much you've hated having me around, but I just want to do something for you, let you have a little fun, take you someplace really, really nice. Please?"

Kate Beckett stood there and stared at Castle. Finally she took a step towards him. "Is this your idea of a joke, Castle?" She said coldly.

"What…No…Why…Of course not…I'd never…" Castle babbled.

Beckett took another step forward. Castle took a step backwards. "I get to pick the restaurant? Where do you think I eat on a cop's salary? Do you think I have any idea what the best restaurants are in New York? Do you think I spend my day with my nose in the society pages of the Ledger? And I get to drive myself? And pay for my own parking? Oh, thank you, Mr. Castle! How generous of you!"

"I was just thinking…You'd feel more…" Castle took another step backwards as Beckett took a step forward.

"And I can handcuff you, in full view of the whole restaurant? Hold a Taser on you? Have some hired muscle standing at my elbow? Oh, what a wonderful idea! I can see the Page Six headlines now, "Millionaire Author Dines with Lunatic Rogue Cop." Thank you so much, Castle. How could any woman possibly pass up such a generous and romantic offer?"

Beckett kept advancing on Castle and Castle kept retreating from the furious detective. Finally, he felt a marble wall behind him. He was trapped.

Kate Beckett stood in front of Castle, leaning up to put her face into his. "Listen to me, Castle! You will pick the restaurant, and you will pick a good one. I'm very flexible about food, so any kind will be fine with me, as long as it's a nice restaurant. You will pick me up in your car. You will be on time. You will open the car door for me when I get in and when I get out. At the restaurant you will be witty, charming and polite. There will be no sophomoric jokes, bizarre theories about anything, or any sexual innuendo. You will take me to someplace nice with jazz music afterwards, and we'll have a few drinks. A few. Is that understood? You will take me home. If you have been a perfect gentleman, and I am in a good mood, I may return the little peck on the cheek you have me the first time we said goodbye. If you fail me in any respect, some hired muscle will be the least of your worries. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." Castle gasped.

"Saturday night works for me. Do you anticipate any problems with Saturday?"

"No."

Kate's phone rang. "Beckett." She snapped. She listened and then hung up the phone. She started to walk away. Then she turned around. "There's a murder. Are you busy arranging my dinner, or do you want to come?"

"Wait up." 

There was a knock at Kate Beckett's door at 6:55. She checked herself in the mirror, satisfied that her red off the shoulder dress would be appropriate for this dinner. Then she answered the door.

"You're five minutes early, Mr. Castle." She said briskly. "That's a good start, at least."

"Glad you approve, Beckett."

Beckett glared at him. "I beg your pardon, Mr. Castle?"

"Um, I wanted to make sure I was on time, Detective Beckett."

Castle walked her to his car, opened the door for her and then pulled out into traffic.

"Where are we going, Mr. Castle?"

"I made reservations at Le Cirque, Detective Beckett. I hope that's acceptable for you."

Kate nodded. "Have you heard anything further about those spy novels?"

"Nothing definitive, Detective Beckett. Paula, my agent, thinks they want to see how Heat Wave sells. If it's a flop, they may not make an offer."

Kate nodded. "And how are the sales of Heat Wave?"

"Excellent, so far. Of course the first few weeks the sales will be driven by the hard core Castle fans, so we'll have to wait a while."

"Hard core Castle fans." Kate said distantly. _Like me._ She thought.

Arriving at Le Cirque, Castle ran around to open the door for Kate before the doorman could do it and escorted her inside to their table.

"Would you like a drink before dinner, Detective Beckett?"

"Yes, a glass of white wine, I think."

"Good, I'll have a Scotch, then."

Kate glared at him. "You're going to drive a police officer around after drinking Scotch, Mr. Castle. I think not."

"Orange juice?" Castle said. Kate nodded.

Once they had ordered, Kate asked Castle a question. "How did you become so fascinated by death and murder, Mr. Castle?

He thought for a while. "I'm not one hundred percent sure, Detective Beckett. None of my writing up to my sophomore year of college was about death or murders. But I think it had something to do with Robert Foix, a man I met at college. He was French and had been a war correspondent. He covered the last year of World War Two, the French-Indochina war, Algeria, Africa, Asia, Latin America, basically wherever there was a war, there was Robert Foix. He retired after losing an arm and a leg in a helicopter crash in Lebanon during the civil war there. I was fascinated by him and his stories because he was the first person I'd ever met who'd actually done dangerous, exciting things and not just written or talked about them. Then somehow, the plot of In a Hail of Bullets popped into my head and I started writing. But there's nothing in the book that directly correlates to any of Foix's stories."

"Robert Foix, you say. He was you first muse?"

"You can Google him. He's real. And he wasn't a muse. Not in the same sense you are, Detective Beckett."

"And in what sense am I your muse, Mr. Castle?"

"Um, well…I'd say…Primarily, you're…That is…"

"Thank you, Mr. Castle, for that enlightening discussion of what I mean to you."

After dinner, Castle took Beckett to the Cellar, a jazz club in Manhattan. Beckett had two drinks, and Castle had more orange juice. Then he took her home.

At her front door, Beckett turned to face Castle. "Thank you Mr. Castle. You can be quite…tolerable when you put your mind to it. I had a nice evening."

"Me, too, Detective Beckett. In fact, I'd like to take you out again, if I could?"

Beckett stared at Castle for a long minute. "You would, would you?"

Castle nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, I would." He paused and quickly added, "Yes, I would, Detective Beckett."

"I'll think about it." She said and turned and opened her door.

As Castle walked away, she called to him. "Mr. Castle, come here for a moment."

She reached up with one hand and pulled his head down, then her lips softly brushed his and she released him. "See you tomorrow, Castle?" She said with a smile.

"See you tomorrow."


End file.
